


You'll Know With Colors

by HistoricalTears



Series: Lams compilation [5]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: 18th Century, Angst, Canon Era, M/M, Soulmate AU, everyone is born color blind
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-05-24 19:28:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6164014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HistoricalTears/pseuds/HistoricalTears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulmate AU. A world without color is a world without a soulmate. Black and white was the only thing Alexander saw until he entered that one pub in New York city in 1776. As he entered, looking for the one named Aaron Burr, his vision began to fill with colors. His soulmate. They were here. Sitting in this pub, drinking a pint or two, probably experiencing the same thing he is experiencing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alexander

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of those Soulmate au's where everyone is born color blind until they meet their soulmate. When they do, their world is filled with color.

  1. 19-year-old Alexander Hamilton heard amongst a group of students from Princeton talking of an Aaron Burr, and how he graduated in just 2 years to join the revolution against England. Interested, Hamilton asked the group where he may find Burr, to which they directed him to a pub. Excited and jittery, Hamilton began to think of things that might happen after meeting Aaron Burr. Burr might introduce him to other people, he’d have friends that would be interested in what he has to say, he might even find his soulmate that will color his vision.



A world without color is a world without a soulmate. Since he was born, Alexander saw no color. Everything was only black and white. He remembered when he was 10 in the Caribbean, his mother was holding him close as she desperately calmed him down from his tears. His father had left the two alone in their little house along the shore of the beach in St. Croix. When he was calm, and there was nothing but his labored breathing, he opened his mouth to ask his mother “ _What are colors?_ ” He remembered his mother telling his father that Alexander will be able to see colors very soon, no matter how small and frail their son was.

“ _Colors are beautiful things. I can’t really explain it, but it’s bright. It can fill anyone with upmost joy. When you find someone you love, my little lion, you will know how colors look. They will fill your world with colors. Just you wait, Alexander. You’re going to do so many great things in the world._ ”

Two years later, he and his mother laid together, gravely ill. The bubonic plague had hit St. Croix, striking Alexander and his mother sick, nearly dead. She held him close, whispering of how things will get better. It wasn’t until a week later, his mother passed away, still holding the sick boy in her arms. As he got better, his cousin took him in, only to end up hanging himself when Alexander was 14. It seemed one horrible event lead into another; his father leaving, his mother dies at his side, his cousin hangs himself in front of young Alexander. What more could possibly happen? A hurricane. But it was hurricane that changed his life. When he was 17 a hurricane came and destroyed the town, killing almost everyone there. He didn’t drown; he couldn’t seem to die. He picked up a pen and began to write; write like his life depended on it. His amazing words surprised the remaining people in St. Croix that they paid for him a ticket to the colonies. A ship to New York. A chance to make a difference.

Now here he was, standing outside a pub, waiting for someone. Someone walked past him, and Alexander immediately tapped his shoulder. “Pardon me, are you Aaron Burr, sir?” he asked the man.

The man turned to look at him, giving Alexander a genuine smile. “That depends, who’s asking?” Burr asked the young man, gesturing for him to introduce himself.

Hamilton’s eyes brightened and he grinned. “I’m Alexander Hamilton. I have been looking for you.”

“I’m getting nervous.” Burr chuckled and smiled. He was rather amused of the red-headed man’s jittery posture, watching him clutch a book (or journal, perhaps) in his arms.

“Sir, I heard your name at Princeton, I was seeking an accelerated course of study. However, I got sorted out of sorts with one of your acquaintances. I may have punched him, though it’s a blur, sir. He handles the financials?”

“You punched the Bursar?” Aaron asked, raising an eyebrow at the restless man.

“Yes! I wanted to do what you did, graduate in two years then join the revolution. He looked at me as if I was a fool! I’m not a fool, Mr. Burr.” Alexander flushed red with slight embarrassment. “How did you do it? How did you graduate so quickly?” Alexander looked at Burr with hope in his eyes.

Burr looked at Alexander and smirked. “It was my parents’ dying wish before they passed.”

This was something that intrigued Hamilton. Another orphan? Here, in New York? And here, he thought everyone was just pretentious and rich in the city. “You’re an orphan? Ah yes! I’m an orphan, god I wish there was a war then we can prove that we’re worth much more than anyone bargained- “

“Can I buy you a drink?” Burr interrupted the non-stop Caribbean man, much to his dismay as Hamilton interested him a lot. He offered the young man a drink so that he can relax, seeing as how stressed Alexander is with all this war chaos.

“That would be nice,” Alexander said softly and smiled brightly at Aaron.

“Now, while we’re talking, let me offer you a free word of advice. Talk less,”

Alexander was taken aback. The man who graduated in just two years is telling him to talk less? Absurd! “What?”

“Smile more,” Aaron said as the two walked into the pub and grabbed a seat, ordering a drink. He gained a confused sound from Alexander. “Don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“You want to get ahead?”

“Yes,” Alexander replied.

“Fools who run their mouths off wind up dead.” Aaron said, though to Alexander, it seemed more of a threat than a little word of advice.

After a moment of silence amongst the two, the pub door swung upon, slamming against the wall. Three men, all exceeding over 6 feet tall (well one was 5’10), entered the pub, rowdy. Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose as if he knows what’s going to happen next. “Like I said,” he added for Alexander.

“Well if it ain’t the prodigy of Princeton college!” exclaimed the loud voice of one of the men that entered. He had curly brown hair and tan skin. He through his arm around Aaron. “Aaron Burr!”

Alexander looked at the curly haired man that intruded on his and Aaron’s conversation and time seemed to halt. Observing him, Hamilton saw something other than black and white. There were more colors, more than the two he was used to. Taking his eyes off the man, he looked out the window and his breath caught in his throat. Blue skies. Actual blue skies. He looked around the pub and noticed the ‘regulars’ in their vibrant red coats. It was too overwhelming for the young man to process. However, he shook his head and turned to the group of three men.

“Well the revolution’s imminent, what do you stall for?” asked the first man to Burr, grinning in almost a challenging manner. Burr looked defeated, unsure of what to say to the man.

Alexander immediately got up from his seat and looked at Aaron. “If you stand for nothing Burr, what’ll you fall for?” he asked, completely disregarding of Aaron’s advice to ‘don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for.’

“Oooh, who are you?” asked the curly haired man with interest.

“Oooh, who is this kid?” asked the French accented voice. The three looked at Alexander, expecting the smaller man to say his name or something.

“I’m Alexander Hamilton,” was all Hamilton said, though it was more spoken quietly, seeing as he was put on the spot. His gaze was fixated on the man he laid eyes on that colored his world, also making his heart pound in his chest. He figured the man felt the same because his eyes did not leave his gaze.

The Frenchman, who seemed to notice this, grinned. He cleared his throat and looked at Alexander. “Bonjour, mon ami. Je m’apelle Marquis de Lafayette. But since we’re all friends here, you can just call me Lafayette!”

Hamilton smiled up at the marquis. Lafayette nudged the man next to him, who rubbed his side. “Ow. Sorry, my name is Hercules Mulligan.” The large man said.

“And I’m John Laurens,” said the man Hamilton didn’t stop staring at. “I’ve got a small query for you, was Burr bothering you in anyway?”

“What? Oh no! Actually I came up to ask him a question. I wanted to graduate as quick as he did and join the American army against the British.” His tone became quiet, noticing all the red coats listening in on their conversation. Now that he was able to see colors, Alexander had to be careful with what he says.

Lafayette grinned, seeing something strong in Alexander. “Alexander, I dream of life without the monarchy. All of it, well, it’ll just lead to - how you say? - anarchy! I am gladly joining this fight because I just know that it’ll make the other side panic with my shot!”

“And even though I’m a tailor’s apprentice, I’m joining the battalion because I know it’s my chance to take a shot.” Mulligan said with such pride and no shame of being a tailor’s apprentice.

“But we’ll never be truly free until those in bondage has the same rights as all of us!” Laurens exclaimed, getting whoops and cheers from the other three. Hamilton looked at him in awe. An abolitionist just like himself. In fact, they were all abolitionists and it was something that he can get on board, something that he’ll be able to speak his mind of, and he has lots to say.

“Geniuses, lower your voices.” Burr interrupted, trying to hush all of them before they’re kicked out of the pub. “I’m with you, but the situation is fraught. You’ve got to be carefully taught, because if you talked, you’re going to get shot.”

Hamilton didn’t really like Burr’s negativity to all of this. He was glad that Burr accepted their idea of abolishing slavery, but seeing him trying to keep everything closed is going to make him a bad man. Hamilton shook his head. “Burr, look who we’ve got. Lafayette, a French noble who can possibly give us allies from France. Mulligan, a tailor who is best for disguises. Laurens, I like you a lot, you and I think alike. What are the odds of God to put us all in one spot? A bunch of revolutionary manumission and abolitionists! Give me a position and show me where the ammunition is!” Alexander exclaimed, but quickly realized he was talking way too loud. His face flushed a deep red as he saw the glares from the British red coats. “I’m sorry. Was I talking too loud? Sometimes I get overexcited and shoot off at the mouth. I just never had a group of friends before like you all. I’ll promise that I’ll make you all proud!”

John looked at Alexander and grinned, opening his mouth to say something when suddenly, two rough hands landed on the small man’s shoulders. “Listen young man,” said a pompous British voice. “You must watch what you’re saying. People will begin to think you’re up to no good. However, if you believe that you and your adorable friends can join the revolution and survive, you’re in a predicament then.” The red coat shoved Alexander to John. “Out of here, all of you!”

The five men scrambled for the door and ran away from the pub and other passing redcoats, until they were sure they lost them. They all stopped in an alleyway, panting and laughing, all but Burr. “You men are too much trouble. I’m heading home before you drag me into real danger.” He said and turned to leave the four friends.

“I swear, if I had the time, I would’ve said a thing or two to that pretentious bastard back at the pub,” Hamilton said, huffing and regaining his breath. “Who do they think they are?”

Laurens laughed. “Easy there, Alexander. We’ll fight plenty of those guys in the revolution.” He said and place a hand on Hamilton’s shoulder. His heart pounded against his chest. Seeing the small man in front of him, he began to realize he’s the one he has been searching for. His soulmate.

“I-I have to go, I’ve classes tomorrow that I can’t be late for.” Hamilton said, pulling back as much as he hated to.

“Alright, will we see you soon?” Laurens asked.

“Of course! We should all meet outside the pub at noon tomorrow.” Laurens smiled at Hamilton before the small man turned and ran off in another direction, gripping on to his books.

It seemed as though John was watching as Alexander left because he then saw a hand being waved in front of him. “Earth to John Laurens. We have to go.” Mulligan said, causing Laurens to blink. “Wait a minute. Are you……do you see colors right now? No! Impossible!”

“So what if I see colors?” Laurens snapped.

“Oh, mon ami. That means your soulmate is Alexander.” Lafayette said, placing his hands on John’s shoulders, grinning with glee.

Laurens stared at the direction Alexander left. “He might be my soulmate……I did feel something when I first saw him.” Could Hamilton really be Laurens’s soulmate. This was blasphemous! This couldn’t be happening. But it was and he isn’t regretting anything.


	2. Right Hand Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stealing the cannons of the British army was exhilarating. Alexander felt the rush suddenly fill him as he and Hercules crossed the battlefield while the red coats were distracted. All the while this was happening, General Washington, the most feared man in the continental army, watched from his place upon his horse, Nelson, gripping at the reigns.   
> He turned to his aide and said “Send a letter to Nathanael Greene. I want to know who that young man is and where did he get this suicidal idea to rob the British from their cannons.” The aide nodded, saluting and huffing out a ‘yessir’ before hopping onto his horse and riding off to Greene’s squadron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! An update!!!!

December, 1776.

The snow fell heavily and stuck the grass, to the pavement on the streets. The British Admiral, William Howe, had brought along over 32 thousand troops from England, lining them along New York harbor. They surrounded the continental army residing downtown, encasing them in a circle of red coats. Nathanael Greene’s squadron began to panic. The snow was up to their knees, making mobility increasingly hard as the days went by. Greene’s troops struggled to pay for their ration of food, as the markets refused to sell to them. _Of course,_ Greene would think. _They only serve to those with British money, with pence. How foolish these salesmen are, refusing their soldiers food so that they may have strength to fight for freedom from the British Empire._ A frustrated Greene huffed and growled to himself as he hugged his body to preserve what little warmth he had left. Greene longed to see his wife, Catharine, once more, who was back in Rhode Island, waiting for him to return from the war.

He cupped his hands over his mouth and breathed on them, rubbing them together to cause friction to gain warmth. The winter was harsh, and some of his men began to catch colds and flus. One of these men was the 19 year-old, Alexander Hamilton. Hamilton was not used to the brutal winters of the far north. Coming from the Caribbean, the lowest it got in Nevis was 70 degrees (Fahrenheit) which is still warm. But as temperatures lowered to almost under 0 degrees, Hamilton almost regrets his decision coming here. Almost. He can fathom this illness he is undergoing, he refused medical attention. No matter how many times Mulligan tells him to rest in his cot until the fever goes down, the restless Hamilton pushes on.

“Hamilton, I am being completely serious,” Mulligan said to his friend one cold morning. “You are in no shape to continue on. Please just rest until your fever has calmed.”

Hamilton scoffed as he tied his red hair with a ribbon. “I’ll be fine, Mulligan” he reassures his friend, voice nasally as he spoke. His face was flushed red and drenched in sweat, dark circles beneath his red and puffy eyes. To top everything, Alexander would sometimes sway back and forth, his legs weak and unable to carry his body.

But of course, the young man wanted to prove he is so much more than orphaned immigrant. In order to prove himself to those higher in power than him, he has to show no resistance; that includes pushing through his feverish state to help out in the war, trudging through the heat and the brutal cold.

_BOOM!_ All thoughts were interrupted at the sound of a cannon coming to contact with the ground, startling the young men as the ground shook. “Men! Get your guns!” ordered Greene, rushing into the tent to command orders to Mulligan, Hamilton, and the two other occupants in the tent.

The four men rushed up to grab their boots and bayonets. “Hamilton, stay here!” Mulligan ordered his small friend, to which Hamilton ignored and rushed out the tent, despite his vision blurring and blood pounding his ears. Mulligan huffed and ran after his ignorant friend, trying to keep an eye on him and making sure he doesn’t drop dead.

Much to Mulligan’s surprise, the sick Hamilton maneuvered himself through the battlefield rather well, for someone this sick. “Hamilton!” he called to his friend once again. This time, Hamilton stopped in his tracks, staying low to the ground and turning to him. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“Then this will be my legacy,” Hamilton responded with a wide grin, a cocky one at that.

The rumbling and shaking of the ground from the impact of the cannons from the British, throwing the patriots off their feet and onto the ground. Holding the bayonet tightly in his hands, Hamilton ducked down behind a tree, covering his face from the flying soil and rocks that came up from the cannons. The soldiers heard Greene give out the command to retreat back to the camp. The few soldiers that survived the blast of the cannons did not hesitate to get up and scramble back towards the camp. Some took muskets to their shoulders and heads, killing them in an instant, others were shot in the leg, causing them to stumble around in great pain and using a fellow soldier to support themselves.

Hamilton glanced at his fellow retreating patriots then forward to where he saw…red. This gave him the sign to turn and follow them. Red. Such a glorious and vibrant color can cause such great fear to Hamilton. Red, the color of passion but also the color of blood. Dazed, he watched the British advanced towards them. It wasn’t until he heard Greene call out his name, demanding that he retreated with the patriots.

He scrambled up and began to run with his fellow soldiers. Mulligan grabbed Hamilton’s arm and dragged the sick soldier to the medical tent. “You need to stay here, Hamilton, and get some damn rest. You nearly got yourself killed out there.” Mulligan snapped, pushing his friend onto the cot. “You’re lucky, that you’re actually able to see colors.” He said, grabbing a bottle of fire whiskey from the medic’s desk. “It allowed you to see those red coats, not every soldier has their soul mate that they found yet.”

“Are you sure Laurens is really my soul mate, or are you just saying that?” Hamilton asked, sending a glare to his friend.

“I promise you, John is indeed your soul mate. I would know because he wouldn’t shut his mouth about you.” Mulligan replied to his friend, handing the bottle of whiskey to Hamilton, who took it graciously and gulped down a quarter of the bottle. “He said he’s lucky as well because, well as an artist, colors are something he can’t absolutely live without. Who knows, Hamilton, maybe the both of you would stop pining and doubt your recently enhanced vision and finally get together.”

“Hercules, you know it is sodomy for two men to be together. No matter what our fate tells us, we can’t be together.”

“Sodomy is bullshit. You both are destined to be together” Mulligan yanked the bottle of whiskey from Hamilton’s hand and chugged it. “Write a letter to him.”

Hamilton looked at Mulligan for a long while before nodding, getting up to search for a parchment and quill somewhere in the medic’s desk. He felt hands grab at his shoulders and pulled him back to the cot. “After you get better.” Mulligan said.

“That could take forever, I may not survive this!” Hamilton said dramatically, pushing himself up from the cot and returning to his search for parchment and quill again. “I have to do this now.”

“Your hands do not stop, do they? Hamilton, how on earth can you write and never rest? How can you not sit and rest? Do you ever sleep?”

Hamilton paused his search and looked over at Mulligan as if he were crazy. “How will I ever create a legacy for myself if I sit around?” His voice and hands shaking as he desperately searched for parchment. “Where does the damn medic keep his writing?!”

“Hamilton!” exclaimed Mulligan, grabbing Hamilton by the shoulder’s once more and shoved him down on the cot for the third time. “Don’t overwork yourself. You’ll end up fainting and sent home.”

Hamilton calmed down, folding his hands together in an effort to calm down his shaking. He lets out a shaky breath and reached for the bottle of whiskey from Mulligan’s hand, taking a large swig and feeling the liquor burn in the back of his throat. He let out a growl, letting the vibrations do away with the bitterness and heat of the whiskey. There was a moment of silence in the tent, and when the medic came, he said nothing but a huff and placing a cold rag onto Hamilton’s forehead. Then, more silence. Hamilton wasn’t a fan of silence; he was more of man of words. He shifted on the cot before he sat up, letting the damp rag fall onto his lap.

“We have to steal the cannons from the British,” Hamilton said suddenly, causing Mulligan to look at him.

 

 

 

Stealing the cannons of the British army was exhilarating. Alexander felt the rush suddenly fill him as he and Hercules crossed the battlefield while the red coats were distracted. All the while this was happening, General Washington, the most feared man in the continental army, watched from his place upon his horse, Nelson, gripping at the reigns.

He turned to his aide and said “Send a letter to Nathanael Greene. I want to know who that young man is and where did he get this suicidal idea to rob the British from their cannons.” The aide nodded, saluting and huffing out a ‘yessir’ before hopping onto his horse and riding off to Greene’s squadron.

Washington looked back towards the frantic soldiers on the fields, their attempts in retreating disappointing the general greatly. He kept his eyes on Hamilton, however, intrigued in the young man’s plan of stealing British cannons with his friend Mulligan.

 

 

 

After such a battle downtown, Hamilton and Mulligan met up with Laurens and Lafayette at Fraunces’ Tavern, taking a couple of drinks. Hamilton’s fever had slowly lessened to manageable sore throat and headache every once and a while. Mulligan had told Hamilton before entering the tavern to speak with Laurens about the whole soul mate situation in private. The red-haired Caribbean man nervously agreed. So they sit at the tavern, having a couple of glasses and mugs of beer and whiskey.

“Hamilton, I hear that General Washington wishes to see you.” Lafayette said to his small friend. Hamilton raised an eyebrow and set his mug of beer down.

“His excellency wants to see me? What for?” Hamilton asked, looking at Mulligan for confirmation.

“Actually, yes. One of his aides came to Greene, saying Washington requests your presence in his tent.” Mulligan explained.

“Hamilton this is great! You have recognition from General George Washington, the most respected man of the continental army and the Sons of Liberty!” Laurens said, a smile growing on his face as he looked at his friend.

“I don’t know. The last time respected men requested to see me, they wanted me to be their secretary. Greene and Knox.” Hamilton said, huffing out before taking another swig of his beer.

“Washington wants to see you as soon as possible, Hamilton.” Mulligan said, twirling his finger along the rim of his glass. “I suggest you leave now.”

Hamilton looked at Mulligan then at Laurens. “Laurens, can I talk to you in private before I departure to General Washington?” Laurens looked at Hamilton before nodding and following him to a corner of the tavern. “When we met, those months ago, did you…well, gain color to your vision?” Hamilton immediately regretted the question he asked the moment Laurens’ face showed confusion. “I’m sorry, that was a foolish question. Forgive me Laurens, I must get to General Washington now- “

“Alexander, wait,” Laurens interrupted, grabbing Alexander’s arm and pulling him back to face him. “I’m sorry for my silence and confusion. I was surprised of what you asked me because I thought I was the only one that gain color. You can see color too, so it seems?”

“Yes,” came the short reply from Hamilton, his face flushed a slight shade of red. “Hercules told me to talk to you when we got here. We really are soulmates then,”

“So it seems” Laurens repeats and smiles down at Hamilton. “Go, General Washington must be getting impatient.”

Hamilton smiled and nodded, turning to rush out of Fraunces’ Tavern and towards the direction of Washington’s station. He entered, looking quite nervous. “Your excellency, you wanted to see me?” he asked Washington.

“Hamilton, come in, have you met Burr?” Washington asked, standing up and greeting Hamilton.

Hamilton looked at the man standing in front of Washington’s desk, sure enough it was Aaron Burr. “Yes, sir. We keep meeting so suddenly.” He responded to the general.

Burr turned around back to General Washington, “As I was saying before we were interrupted by Hamilton, I look forward to seeing your strategy come together smoothly,”

“Burr.”

“Sir?”

“Close the door on your way out,” Washington said to Burr, cutting him off from his sentence. Burr glanced at Hamilton who gave him an equal look of confusion, before walking out.

Hamilton watched Burr before looking up at Washington once the door was closed. “Have I done something sir?” he asked nervously, puffing out his chest to show no fear of the general, which was hard since everyone feared him.

“Quite the opposite. I called you here because, even though your reputation precedes you, but I find something funny.”

“Sir?”

“Hamilton, how come no one can get you on their staff?” Washington asked with a chuckle.

“Sir!” Hamilton exclaimed, his face flushing red in embarrassment.

Washington held a hand up and stopped chuckling. “Don’t get me wrong, young man. You have such great and daring intentions. I know you stole British cannons when we were still downtown. Now, Nathanael Greene and Henry Knox wanted to hire you.”

“To be their secretary, I don’t think so.” Hamilton huffed, looking away.

“Why are you upset son? It’s alright you want to fight; you’ve got a hunger for bloodshed. I was much like you when I was your age. Head full of fantasies of dying like a martyr.”

“Yes,”

“Dying is easy young man, living is harder.”

The serious tone in Washington’s voice brought Hamilton into a much more nervous state than earlier. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked, his voice shaking.

“I’m only being honest. We’re working for a third of what our congress has promised, I need someone like you to lighten the load. Well?”

Hamilton looked down at the floor, thoughts running through his head. This was what he was waiting for; a chance to make a mark in history, to start his legacy for real and work his way up to greatness. If he dies in the battlefield, his name would be honored as one of Washington’s aide de camp. Should he survive the war, he would only continue his legacy from there, making sure his name is never erased from history ever. _I am not throwing away my shot._ He thought before looking up at Washington with much determination rather than nervousness.

“You need all the help and men? I have three friends with connections; John Laurens, Hercules Mulligan and Marquis de Lafayette!” he listed, stating the names of his three friends back at the tavern. “What more do you need?”

“We’re also outnumbered and out planned.”

“We’ll needs a couple of spies on the inside. Possibly some of the king’s soldiers who might let some things slide. I’ll write to congress, inform them of our shortage of supplies, rally up more men. We will master the element of surprise, sir.” Washington watched as Hamilton begins writing a letter to the continental congress. He had much faith in the boy, he knows of his greatness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: during the time Hercules and Alexander were stealing British cannons, Alexander was gravely sick yet he would not stop at nothing to continue.


End file.
